Why Hangovers Suck
by FacelessGhoul
Summary: Super short one-shot. Ichigo has a hangover, and Shiro tells him what he did last night. Rated T for language here and there. (There's ichihichi if you squint really, really hard, but no yaoi and not really any shounen-ai.)


The time was early afternoon. A young man with fiery, untamed orange hair was sleeping rather peacefully on a beige couch. Drool was slowly leaking from the corner of his mouth down to his chin and onto the couch. For some unknown reason, he was sleeping in a strapless red dress that barely came down to the middle of his thighs.

Suddenly, there was a loud buzzing sound. A cellphone was going off on the coffee table. The sound persisted until there was a _**clunk**_ as it hit the hardwood floor.

Brown eyes fluttered open. The man glanced around the room, disoriented by his abrupt wakefulness and a horrid throbbing, aching pain that had made itself known inside his cranium. He groaned, rubbing tiredly at one of his eyes and sat up on the couch.

He then noticed the attire he was currently wearing. He groaned even louder.

"Oh god, what happened last night?" he asked himself rhetorically. He fumbled to pick up the phone, dropping it a couple times before succeeding.

"D'ya want the whole story, or the abridged version? Mornin', by the way, Ichigo."

A pale man with a similar countenance to the orangette stood in the hallway, clad in only black and green plaid pajama pants. He was leaning casually against the wall with a smirk on his face.

The orangette startled, accidentally dropping the phone he'd just picked up. He didn't even spare the other a glance, "Could you not sneak up on me, Shiro? Thanks."

The other shrugged, trotting over and grabbing up the phone Ichigo was attempting to pick back up. He flipped it open and started looking through it without permission.

Shiro let out a low whistle, "Ya gotta stop handing out yer number to random strangers, Ichi. Honestly."

Ichigo made clumsy grab for his phone, "I did not—"

Shiro pushed Ichigo down using his foot while he continued to snoop through Ichigo's phone, then did some weird impression of a stereotypical punk with a stick up his ass, "Hey, hottie, lemme know if ya wanna meet up again, I'm dyin' to get ya back on the dance floor…" Then he spoke in monotone. "Less than three, less than three, less than three. Winky face."

"Give that back—"

Shiro pressed a couple buttons on the phone, "I'ma text 'em back and tell 'em to shove that offer up where the sun don'—"

Ichigo whacked Shiro upside the head and finally retrieved his phone, pocketing the object before Shiro could commit glorious sins with it. Shiro gave Ichigo a mock glare before pouting.

"Aww, Ichi, I was havin' fun," Shiro whined.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, "Shut up, I have a migraine and you're making it ten times worse. Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Correction," Shiro said with a smirk, "you have a _hangover_. Want a bucket for that?"

Ichigo shook his head. Paused for a moment in thought. Lurched from the couch and ran into the bathroom in the hallway.

Shiro cringed at the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. The toilet flushed, and then there was the sound of running water as Ichigo furiously brushed his teeth.

A moment later, Shiro had to hold back a gleeful snicker as he heard the outraged cry of, "Why am I in dress?!"

"Like I said earlier, partner, ya want the long story or nah?" he called. Shiro reclined into the couch, making himself comfortable.

Ichigo walked in with a scowl as he rubbed furiously at his temples, "My head is pounding. What happened last night?"

"Well," Shiro laughed, "in laymen's terms, ya got drunk."

"I can _see_ that," Ichigo snapped.

"Gee, then why'd ya ask?"

Ichigo glared at Shiro, "You insufferable bastard."

Shiro hopped up from the couch, skipping off into the kitchen. As he pulled open the medicine cabinet, he sing-songed, "I'll get the painkillers!"

The orangette plopped down on the couch once more with a sigh, "Please do."

Shiro soon returned in the living room with a tall glass of cold water and a couple pills in hand. He set the glass on the coffee table and dropped the pills in Ichigo's waiting hand, "There ya go. Take those an' drink lotsa water. Gotta keep ya hydrated."

Ichigo did so without complaint. After he'd emptied the glass, Shiro immediately ran off to refill it again.

Once Ichigo had drank about half his second glass of water, he turned to Shiro, "Okay, what happened last night?"

Shiro put a forefinger to his bottom lip thoughtfully, "W _ell_ … I'm not sure how, but when I found ya at the club, ya were already drunk as all hell. So I tossed ya over my shoulder and dragged ya home. At some point, ya had this massive breakdown 'cause ya realized I was white, and panicked an' told me that ya were gonna 'help' me find my color and beat up the asshole who 'stole' it. It was really amusin' for a lil while."

"Oh god," Ichigo groaned, rubbing at his temples again, " _really…_ "

"... an' then ya put my phone on airplane mode and threw it… somewhere… hm. Over there," he pointed to where a flip phone lay on the floor, broken in half, "ya started cryin' when ya realized airplane mode didn't make it fly."

"What the fuu _uuuck_."

"Then ya got over it an' informed me that ya were gonna give me a makeover and put ketchup all over my face and cracked some eggs an' smeared 'em in my hair. Ya stained my shirt, by the way, an' ya also owe me a new bottle of ketchup. On the bright sides, I think the egg treatment actually made my hair silky soft. Don't think the ketchup did whatever ya thought it would, though."

Ichigo had his face in his hands, "I am _so_ sorry."

"An' to be perfectly honest, I have no idea where ya got the dress from. Like literally no idea. Yer like Houdini or some shit."

Ichigo balked. Then turned, threw his face into the throw pillow at the end of the couch, and screamed. Shiro leaned over, patting the orangette on the shoulder consolingly.

"Aww, Ichi, it's okay. It's not that bad," he said, trying his damnedest not to laugh even more at Ichigo's expense.

"Amm—um— _fnnmmm_ —amnmm—umumfm!"

Shiro blinked, "Sorry, what was that? I don't speak muffle," he added with a snickered laugh.

Ichigo peeked out from the pillow he'd been hiding his face in, "I _said_ , I am _never_ getting drunk again!"


End file.
